Awake
by greentoothbrush
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has a past, like everyone, but when it is put in danger will he be the man he used to be or continue to be a cold calculating deduction machine? SHERLOCK/OFC
1. Chapter 1

I should specify i do not own Sherlock Holmes, Cambridge university, Queen Margarets University, Bill Gates, Serial Arsonists (Thankfully) or Benedict Cumberbatch (unfortunatly). Basically I own nothing other than Accalia. But hey its my birthday next week so live in hope?

* * *

"_Lend me your hand; and we'll conquer them all,_

_But lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall._

_Lend me your eyes I can change what you see,_

_But your soul you must keep totally free,_

_Awake my soul_."

~Awake My Soul – Mumford and Sons

* * *

The two consultant detectives stood over the corpse of the nineteen year old student and even Sherlock couldn't help but feel some sadness. The boy had been shot then burned. As with the three previous murders there was a steel box next to the corpse.

Sherlock opened the box tentatively with a handkerchief covering his hand inside according to pattern was a clue the word "DRAUGHTS" was printed in nondescript writing on a sheet of paper with the Queen Margaret's University head at the top.

For the first time since the case began John saw Sherlock smile.

"What? What is it?" he asked urgently.

"I know where he's going to strike next." He turned away from the crime scene and called over his shoulder "Come along John!"

* * *

"So, if you can isolate the carcinogen and remove the patient from exposure will the DNA mutation stop or will you carry on the treatment?" The professor said in her slight accent. She looked around the lecture hall at her students.

At this moment in time she was not feeling very hopeful for the future of medicine. These people were supposed to be fully qualified doctors in just less than two years, out of the class of seventy five twenty three were present. Two girls had rushed out halfway through the lecture probably getting sick in the bathrooms. She pinched the bridge of her nose and estimated that out of the remaining twenty one approximately four were listening. She had told the faculty she didn't want Monday lectures.

"JOHNSON!" she shouted across the hall to the girl Angelina who was drifting in and out of awareness, waking seven of her students in the progress. "Who was it?"

"Sorry professor?" she said groggily

"Who was playing the gig?" she asked putting hands on hips.

"Umm . . ." she looked around shiftily "It was U2, in Wemberly . . . then there was an after-party . . ."

"Ah I see . . ." she walked to the front of the platform and looked around the hall, not noticing the two men standing in the shadows. "I WANT A FIVE THOUSAND WORD ESSAY ON CARCINOGEN EXPOSURE AND TREATMENT BY THURSDAY MORNING 8:00 OR I WILL FAIL EVERY MEMBER OF THIS CLASS! And yes Johnson I am well aware that Eminem is playing the 02 on Wednesday night. Class dismissed."

"What about the people who missed this lecture professor?" Johnson piped up.

"Theirs is a six thousand word essay." She turned her back to the slowly emptying hall, gathering up her books and papers which she threw forcefully in the briefcase slung under her shoulder. She made her way towards the huge stack of papers and slung them under her arm with practised ease and exited out of the back of the lecture hall.

* * *

"Sherlock were not even following her! Why couldn't we have talked to her in the auditorium?"

"Because_ John_ I know exactly where she is going and she was not in the correct mood to be approached in the hall and secondly they are not auditoriums you are not in America, this is _Cambridge_."

As if John could forget. The impressive and imposing walls around him were hundreds of years old and Sherlock was obviously very familiar with this place he wondered if . . .

"Is this where you went to University?"

"Yes."

"So you know her from Uni?"

"Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Oh so it's like that"

"Like what Watson?"

"Oh so it's by the second name now. I meant nothing Sherlock." He held up his hands in an 'I surrender gesture'.

"Whatever your thinking John, is most probably wrong." Holmes said his eyes forward.

"Tell me her name at least." He asked.

"Accalia."

"Figures."

"What?"

"You're called _Sherlock_ your brother is called _Mycroft_ it just figures that your ex would have a weird-"

"My Ex?" he interrupted "She is not my ex! She's just someone I used to know. . ." he stalked off effectively cutting off all further conversation.

"She is so an ex." John muttered under his breath jogging to catch up.

* * *

Professor Accalia Landauer pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and pulled the clip out of her hair, letting the dark hair tumble down to her collarbones. She reached for her paper cup and fumbled unwilling to look up and loose her place in the page. Suddenly her hand wrapped around the cup and met cool fingers on the other side. Her head snapped up.

"Hello Accalia." The owner of the fingers said.

"Sh-sherlock?" she asked her dark eyes widening. He only offered a small smile in recognition. "You're" she took a deep breath "You look exactly the same." She whispered.

"Very kind but untrue; wrinkles. You on the other hand look very different your hair is shorter and layered, you've toned up as well, and the glasses suit you."

"I forgot you used to do that." She said in an almost wistful tone, the dark eyes locked with the pale ones causing John to feel like an intruder. "You knew where to find me."

"Of course, this is our table." He said never loosing eye contact "you have an office now, yet you still use our table."

"Best seats in the house Sherlock, don't you remember?" her voice soft and exclusive.

"Of course, how could I forget?" he replied just as soft, his eyes far away in a different time.

"Well, useless information takes up space and is therefore deleted." Her eyes hardened. "But I doubt you came all the way from your beloved London to here to reminisce?"

"No, I have a case."

"But of course, shall we go and have some tea?" she quickly stacked her papers on the bottom shelf and took out a pen and marked them with the letters PAL across the spines. And turned and finally noticed the other man.

"Oh hello, who are you?" She asked offering a hand and a smile.

"John Watson. Colleague of Sherlock's." He shook her hand with a smile. "And can I ask . . . PAL?"

"Professor Accalia Landauer, John, common sense." Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.

"Common sense to someone like Sherlock." She said with an indulgent smile she got to her high heeled feet and put on her burgundy fitted coat."Shall we boys?" As she lead the way out of the secluded corner of the library. John gave her an appreciative glance she was six foot in the heels, she towered over him, and her long legs were accentuated by the tight navy skinny jeans which also did great things for her rear. She was pretty too, round cheeks, sparkling eyes, button nose and full red lips.

John held Sherlock back.

"She _is_ an ex."

"An Ex friend john, not what you think." He said watching her walk away.

"With benefits?" he asked. Then noting the blush on the man's high cheek bones he exclaimed. "Oh. My. God. You got off with her." Sherlock walked away, coat billowing. "Seriously she is a stunner. And you're the guy with no social skills, wow Life is so unfair."

"Shut up John."

"Have you seen her though she's tall, perfect curves, smart, _and nice. _How did you get a girl like her?" he said rounding the corner bumping straight into the person in question. Accalia stumbled and almost fell were it not for Sherlock reaching out and grabbing her elbow to steady her, John did not miss the way she jerked her hand away from his touch instantly.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"It's no problem; the heels don't help. And he didn't 'get' me." she said with a glare in Sherlock's direction.

"I didn't tell him anything" he replied, not backing down.

"Good. I will." She said turning yet again and stalking off, Not waiting for them to follow.

John began to see the resemblance.


	2. Chapter 2

_Not a lot of people are reading this but I honestly don't care:D I love this story with or withoutreveiws! But thanks a million to Eleanor B-F for your reveiw, its really a confidence booster! so here it is an explanation on Accalia . . . _

* * *

"So what did he tell you?" Accalia said leaning over her cup of tea and honey, while Sherlock was talking to some people he had saved from prison.

"Nothing, I deduced." John said rather proudly.

"Very poorly." The deep baritone interrupted.

"Okay, so how _did_ you two meet?" he said

"None of your-" "I was his tutor-" they said at the same time.

"Wait Sherlock needed a _tutor_?" John said disbelievingly.

"No, you see it was all an elaborate hoax by Mycroft." She sighed "I was on a scholarship, two years younger than I was supposed to be and from Ireland-"

"But your name is Landauer, that's German-" John was then interrupted by Sherlock.

"Her mother was half German half Italian so her grandparents were disinherited by the family who were purist gentry. Her mother never married her father who was Irish therefore the original Landauer name is still intact yet she is Irish." He rhymed off then took a sip of coffee. "Concentrate John."

"Yes, hence the eyes and colouring." She said gesturing to her dark Italian eyes and pale Germanic skin. "I offended Mycroft's patriotism." She let out a deep sigh and Sherlock took up the story.

"It was also a dig at me. The idea that I would need a tutor never mind a tutor a year younger and more importantly a beautiful girl whom I could try, as I was a hormone ridden teenager, but never even hold a conversation with because of my non-existent people skills as he called them. I dare say he expected you to run screaming from my room when he sent you." He smiled.

"Yeah, I had brothers with big mouths, so I was used to telling them to shut up. Difference was they no brains to fill the void but Sherlock did have brains so, occasionally, I listened. We were like two peas in a pod or rather two loner workaholics, holed up in their table in the library." she looked up at John "Go on; ask the question you've been waiting to."

"Why did Sherlock blush when I said friends with benefits?" He said quietly not meeting her eyes and then clearing his throat and scratching the back of his head.

"He did, did he? Poor delicate little flower! All embarrassed over sex." She laughed her Irish accent becoming even more pronounced.

"I had a flashback, we_ were_ in the library . . ." he said defensively.

"_In the library?"_ John asked scandalised.

"Sherlock and I had sex a number of times, a few in the library."

"Two hundred and seventeen times." Sherlock piped up completely blasé about the fact they were discussing his sex life, much the same as Accalia. John wondered why he was the only one who was hot under the collar as the two people in question sat quietly sipping away.

"See normally I would be flattered but this is Sherlock Holmes were talking about here, I'm not even surprised." She said "I helped him with his people skills and he helped me with my degree."

"Yes carcinogens, very-"

"Dull?" she finished for him with a bitter smile. "So why are you here?"

"There has been a series of murders of college students, they have all been on scholarship programmes and were from different countries. We need your help because according to the clue here is where he strike's next. And you are the scholarship co-ordinator aren't you?"

"Been keeping tabs on me, Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"And that isn't considered a waste of space in your head?"

"No . . ."

"Interesting, I'll help."

"So you've been keeping tabs on her?" John asked when they were alone outside her office.

"Yes"

"And . . ."

"And what John? What do you want? Her life story; I can tell you that if you'd like just from the way she dresses. Maybe her dating history, so you are in with a chance?" Sherlock said rolling his eyes.

"Her dating history would include you."

"No it wouldn't, as you eloquently put it we were friends with benefits." He said with a smirk "Accalia was in Cambridge on a scholarship from a poor, large family she worked hard to prove herself, no time for boyfriends."

"And you wanted more?"

"Oh Yes! A white picket fence and a dog. Don't be an idiot John do I look like an '_other half'_ type?" he snarled.

"I have it boys!" the woman in question came vaulting out the door, nose buried in a sheet of paper. She tripped over Sherlock's outstretched legs, tumbling to the floor she took him with her.

"You still do that." Sherlock said groaning.

"Yeah, as graceful as a baby elephant." She said from the floor stretching her knee. He jumped to his feet with his usual finesse and stretched a hand down to her. "And you're still the exact opposite."

"Yes" he said and frowned as she refused his hand and shoved a couple of sheets in his hand instead.

"A list of all the pupils in Cambridge on scholarships, almost all of them are from different countries." She said "how did you know the killer was going to strike here?"

"He leaves clues."

"What clue?"

"Draughts."

"Of course." She nodded.

"Of course?" John asked incredulously

"The Cambridge motto is _Hinc lucem et pocula sacra_or in English _From here, light and sacred draughts_"

"Is there any way you could get all of these students in a room together?" Sherlock said his nose buried in the paper.

"Yes but-"

"Professor!" they turned round and saw the student from earlier running towards them.

"What Angelina?" Accalia asked the girl had tears streaming down her face.

"It's- its James Sullivan you know the Amer-"

"Yes I know him, what's wrong with him?"

"He was found dead in his apartment shot, the apartment was set on fire." She said wiping a tear away. "Professor Clarke told me to come and get you."

"Yes thank you Angelina, his accommodation was on campus right?" she nodded "take us there now."

They walked away following the student they began to trail behind and Accalia grabbed Sherlock's arm.

"It was him wasn't it?"

"Yes, but what's important now though is the clue. He has broken the pattern I used to have a week to figure it out and I would only ever be a few hours late but the last murder was in Queen Margaret's University in Scotland _yesterday_. Either he's keeping an eye on us or he's panicking." Sherlock buttoned his coat walking out into the frigid November air. "My bet is both."

Accalia and John shared a look and followed him as they caught up to the student.


	3. Chapter 3

A big thanks to sweetlilnothing (who favourite'd) that avatar is AWESOME! :D i busted my ass laughing! Thank you to izzie22 for such a nice review *blushes*

Its my birthday today so i decided to GIVE something . . . a new chapter! All i ask in return is one little reveiw bad or good?

The room had been small and functional like most college accommodation now there was no door, it had been knocked in. There were the charred remains of a person in the corner. But what was the most over whelming thing was the smell of scorched flesh; they had had to evacuate the entire building which housed over two hundred students. It was one of the most horrific things Sally had seen in her policing career.

She stepped outside to rid fill her lungs with un-polluted air. She wiped a tear away; it was very seldom her 'professional' face cracked but seeing that poor student with his entire life ahead of him was just heartbreaking. She looked up to the darkening sky and took a deep cleansing breath. She looked down and caught sight of a tall dark haired man with his coat billowing and suddenly didn't feel cleansed at all.

"Why are you here?" she said confronting the man.

"Ah Sally what an odd coincidence! I was just visiting an old friend this is Professor Landauer, Accalia this is Sergeant Sally." Sherlock said with his fakest smile.

"You don't have any friends, freak, unless this is your dealer." The sergeant said with her arms crossed over her chest, completely missing the look of fury crossing the professor's face "and the DI isn't here so I'm not letting you anywhere near this crime scene."

"Listen here _Sally_, this crime scene is about to become the focus of all the media attention in the world because the boy you have in there was an American and in Cambridge on a scholarship which is funded by Bill Gates. so I think it would be best if you had some answers when the paparazzi and the congress come knocking and we both know that your quickest way to get answers is Sherlock so have some respect." she said leaving the Sergeant speechless "I'd hazard a bet that you don't even have a name; we do, so let us in"

As they passed she lowered her voice and whispered in the woman's ear "also Sherlock does have friends; and lovers too, because we both know you've been wondering."

They made their way through the long nondescript corridors and up a flight of stairs until they were at the soot stained doorway. Sherlock bounded in with complete disregard to the forensics trying to get out of his way, who had obviously heard in advance. John went in his cuff covering his nose, Accalia never got further than the doorway.

"Have a look around john the box with the clue isn't where it usually is. Although it fits the pattern perfectly petroleum accelerant, gunshot wound to the head" he pulled on the latex gloves and leant down to look under the bed. "Accalia did you said that he was here courtesy of Bill Gates so he was here on a computers course, right?" there was no answer.

He straightened and looked back through the door. She was there one hand on the doorframe propping her up, in one glance he saw she was struggling to breathe her lips were turning blue, her knees were shaking but her eyes were still glued to the corpse on the bed. His mind had obviously missed a huge deduction but it made the connection now.

He rushed over to her, completely ignoring John who was up to his knees in ash looking shell shocked. He lowered himself to her height and blocked the view of the corpse with his face, mere inches from hers. He placed a hand on either side of her face.

"It's okay Lia; you're here with me, you're not back there. You're safe." He said in a soothing voice, John had never heard him use.

"Smells. Exactly. The same. Sherlock." She gasped holding onto the lapels of his coat to stay upright.

"You're safe now." He said keeping hold of her frantic eyes with his own.

"They're not though." She whispered with her last bit of breath before she collapsed into him. He awkwardly picked her up, bridal style and walked out of the room.

John who was stunned throughout the exchange finally came to his senses. "What about the crime scene?"

"What about it? No clue, so nothing for us to do." He said over his shoulder to the doctor. "Go tell forensics we're done."

He turned into the nearest room that was open, and that didn't smell of burnt bodies, and put her down on the bed. He checked her pulse and breathing and tried not to notice she still smelt the same. He found some water and decided not to try to wake her just yet. He ran his fingers through his dark locks she still reacted like this despite it was ten years since the fire. He remembered it so well . . .

_He answered the phone with a smile, knowing it would be her. She was stuck attending some family party back in Ireland she had promised she would ring at seven before she left. So here he was answering the phone, and smiling like an idiot. They weren't really in a relationship but she was his best friend, they had sex regularly and he cared when things upset her. These were huge things for him. _

_Sure, people had started to notice her this past year; that dick head Chris Lowell had even asked her out right in front of him, they had argued over that. And they had argued over his drug use but they were making things work it was becoming like a normal relationship and Sherlock found he didn't really mind. She was well able for him and all of his eccentricities._

"_Hello?" the familiar voice said._

"_Hello Lia" he said with a huge smile._

"_Hey you sound happy! You don't have another girl round, do you?" she joked._

"_Who else would be stupid enough to put up with me?" he jibed "So how is it going?"_

"_Oh God Sherlock I am so bored" he laughed down the line "it's not funny; and you're rubbing off on me I couldn't help but notice that auntie Mary's wedding ring was very shiny on the inside and she's got some new jewellery on. You've got me suspecting my whole family of treachery!"_

"_So what are you doing now? Apart from doubting your family." he asked trying to build a mental picture of her._

"_Well I'm smiling and twirling the phone wire around my fingers and trying to ignore the bitch of a secretary in the hotel, where we're having a meal, who keeps giving me the evils. Would you like to know what I'm wearing?" she asked with a laugh knowing that he wanted details._

"_Of course I want to know what you're wearing! But why is the secretary giving you evils?" he asked trying not to imagine her wearing nothing._

"_Oh I may have accidentally let slip you're not my boyfriend but we had sex so she thinks I'm going to hell." she said conversationally making him laugh down the phone at her._

"_Only you could let __**that**__ slip in a normal conversation. So I'm guessing you missed me if you are talking about me to people you don't even know." he asked with a smile._

"_Well I can hardly talk to my parents about you so why not strangers?"_

"_You're avoiding the question Lia!" he said in a sing-song voice, just to annoy her._

"_Fine; I missed you, you big afro." _

"_So you're home tomorrow?"_

"_Yes thank-" a huge roar came down the phone line and he heard her scream and then the phone line was cut off. He frantically paced back and forth until the nine o'clock news came on and reports of a loyalist bomb exploding in a hotel in Leitrim. It showed pictures of the huge hotel on fire and people being carried out on stretchers, and . . . corpses in the rubble. Pain stabbed through him. He looked as hard as he could but he didn't make out her distinctive pale skin and straight brown hair._

_That was the first time he had ever felt real terror._

The following days were a blur; he wasn't allowed to go to Ireland to her because of previous convictions of drug abuse. He had been so desperate he had even gone to Mycroft to ask could he pull any strings but his big brother was just getting started by then. She had got in touch after two agonizing days to tell him that she would be home in a week; she had to bury her family first. All seventeen of them, she was the sole survivor.

And he couldn't, he didn't support her; because of the drugs. He couldn't go over for the funeral and he remembered the day she was due to arrive home to their shared apartment, he had been so nervous. She had suffered second degree burns and hundreds of cuts on the burned skin as she was blasted through a window but far more worrying to him was the emotional damage. He knew that his Lia would not be the same and he was supposed to find some way of comforting her. Emotionally.

He was scared, so he took a line to give himself courage. He didn't remember doing the other two lines and falling asleep on the floor with a lit cigarette in his hand. She had come home to the apartment they had made a home over the past three years and found him passed out on the floor with a bleeding nose and a small fire, from his cigarette, so like the one she had just lost her entire family to and only just survived herself.

She had made it perfectly clear she never wanted to talk to him again. And stupid, proud, _high_ twenty three year old he was he hadn't, until today.

He looked down at her now, it had been nine years. He had sunk down in a spiral of addiction whereas she had risen above all of her classmates. The university had offered her another scholarship to complete her PhD. And now she was one of the youngest professors in the history of the place. He had kept an eye but never got in touch, even when he had got clean. She was different now though, she didn't have the laugh-lines she should have had, the shadows under her eyes were telling of how hard she was pushing herself and there were white spots on her nails; she wasn't getting enough iron.

He splashed her with water, waking her up with a gasp. He didn't want to think of what could have been with her it made him . . . uncomfortable.

"Shit!" she gasped "what - where?" then she closed her eyes and lay back on the bed pushing her hair out of the way. "I'm sorry you had to see that." She whispered after a couple of minutes.

"I'm sorry I missed it the first time around." He said quietly, her eyes snapped up to his.

"Really?"

"Yes." He said not meeting her eyes clearly uncomfortable.

"Thank you." She said catching his eye and then getting up and leaving him there on his own.

They met up with john outside the police quarantine and exchanged numbers in case something else came up then went their separate ways. John noticed neither of them looked back.

* * *

Oh don't worry the end is nowhere near nigh for these two! thinkin they can just walk off on me with no smooching . . .

None got me benedict cumberbatch . . .yet . . . i live in hope!

must go CAKE . . . . nom-nom-nom


	4. Chapter 4

Accalia made her way back through the familiar shelves of the library to her table. She only went there when she was upset but the one day Sherlock decided to track her down she had to be sat at the table they had had sex on a number of times. She sighed someone was laughing their ass off upstairs.

She picked up her bag that was left on the table and got the papers she had been correcting earlier and put them on the table. John Watson seemed like a nice man and he was obviously interested in her but no; she couldn't fall for a nice guy she had to fall for a genius sociopath. Somebody upstairs was definitely laughing.

She shook her head and tried to put him out of it she took off her coat and opened the paper on top, she had about an hour until the library closed. She opened the first page, hoping that this one hadn't referenced Wikipedia as a source, when she noticed the letters scrawled across the page in block capitals.

"YOURE NEXT"

She turned the page; again and again the two words were repeated. She took up the next paper it was the exact same every single page had the two words.

She took out her phone with shaking hands and dialled the unfamiliar number praying he would pick up.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about?" John asked on the train on the way home.

"She had a bad experience with fire." He said shortly, looking out the window.

"And-" he was cut off by the ringtone. He patted his pockets but Sherlock had already answered his phone.

"Yes" he said his eyebrows pulled together.

"Okay calm down Lia . . . leave now and talk to none, get a taxi to 221 baker street and bring the papers . . .yes we'll meet you there."

"What was all that about?" John asked.

"We have a clue, John." He replied but this time he didn't smile.

She paid the outrageous taxi fare and ran through the pelting rain to 221 and rang the bell. An old woman answered the door with a smile.

"You must be Professor Landauer, the boys are upstairs. I'll show you up." She continued talking about the weather but Accalia had zoned out. It was really bachelors pad a very nice one but it had clutter everywhere, which was probably Sherlock she decided. The man himself had stepped on top of the table and made his way to the doorway. He was still wearing his suave suit and she was very aware she was sporting the 'drowned rat' look, and one of her heels had broken in the sprint off the campus to the taxi rank.

He took the pile of papers off her hands and shoved them into Johns. He noted she had only one shoe on.

"You ran to the taxi rank."

"Yes."

"See anyone suspicious?"

"How do you define suspicious Sherlock?" she said digging in her bag.

"Someone you didn't recognise-"

"There's thousands of students hanging around Sherlock not all of us have minds like you." She said winding her hair up into the clip she got out of the bag.

"Right well you're staying here until we catch him." he turned away from her towards the stack of papers on the desk and flicked through them.

"No, no I'm not I've got lectures in the morning and a staff meeting and there's a charity ball I have to attend in Scotland-"

"You're staying here until we catch him Lia or you'll end up dead." He said through his teeth.

"Look I'll hire a bodyguard or-"

"NO!" he exploded "DONT YOU SEE! All of these murders are connected to YOU! They are non-national students attending on scholarships who were BURNED after they were killed; _how_ can you not see the connection?" he sighed "you're not safe Lia."

"It's Accalia to you." She said with a stony expression. She turned, left the bag down on the floor and wrapped her arms around herself looking anywhere but at Sherlock.

"You'll need something to wear, Accalia. Can she borrow some of your clothes Sherlock? Mine will be too short." John said awkwardly into the tense silence.

"Yes, of course" was all the reply he got.

"I'll show you the bathroom then." He said allowing her to leave the room in front of him.

She stood outside the bathroom door as john told her how to turn the hot water on. He noted her eyes looked troubled and decided to finally ask her.

"I just, I can't imagine Sherlock in a relationship, never mind with someone like you." He said exasperated.

"The Sherlock you know and the one I knew are completely different" she leaned back onto the staircase "Don't get me wrong he was anti social and had trouble with dealing with people. But he tried. Now he doesn't at all, he's a sociopath."

"Harsh." John said eyes wide.

"But regretfully true, john" she said with a bitter smile "now all he cares about are the puzzles."

"You say he was different but I mean I still can't imagine him taking you out on a date or anything."

"Oh god no it wasn't like that!" she said with a laugh "the first time we hooked up was two weeks before final exams and I was really stressed out and Sherlock came to me talking about his criminology lecture on sex related crimes. Being Sherlock he couldn't understand what all the fuss was about and I told him to shut up because he had no idea what he was talking about. We started talking about what sex does to the body and he mentioned about stress relief and then made his move, one thing lead to another. The second time we were both high, after the finals, so we could blame it on the coke. John; we were students. It eventually became a regular thing and we found ourselves in a relationship kind of by surprise." She finished with a smile. "Now you have the full story John."

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to pry."

"Yes you did, it's okay I know that Sherlock doesn't exactly give information freely." She smiled again.

"You go on and have your shower I'm going to go out and get some food." He said with a kind smile.

This update is for the lovely Alive Through Writing, who kicked my ass into gear and the equally fabulous Barus, LiLiAnKa and bgm76.

I fully intend to finish this. . . timing has never been my strongest suit!


End file.
